Beard
by Jemmiah
Summary: Just why isn't anyone looking ObiWan straight in the face?
1. Beard 1: The Phantom Beard

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BEARD: Part One

By Jemmiah

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"Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon knocked on the door to the refresher room and waited to receive some kind of acknowledgement. How long had he been in there? And just why had a fifteen-year-old boy any reason to be narcissistic in the first place? 

Lately it had become ridiculous, if faintly amusing to Qui-Gon, watching his padawan's developing vanity hit full stride. Usually a model of dignity and decorum within the temple, (although occasionally disobedient and headstrong) Obi-Wan was beginning to develop both physically and mentally in leaps and bounds. That was the part that Qui-Gon was having difficulty with. The boy was toughening up and strengthening his body with exercise and practising of Katas in the training rooms. His mind however was beginning to stray towards natural (if undesirable) adolescent fantasies, and frankly Qui-Gon was at a loss for what to do or say to keep his student's attention where it should be and not fluttering his lashes shyly at every female padawan that passed by. 

Was he ever like that, he wondered? He somehow doubted it. Even if he could remember back to his first lovesick yearnings he was almost certain that Yoda would have made sure that was all they remained. Yoda had been the ultimate girlfriend deterrent. The kudos he'd received on being claimed as the troll's padawan had been instantly negated in the romance department. Well, perhaps that was just as well, as it turned out. 

After all, look at how all his relationships had ended.

No, a jedi was made to be committed to the force and to the force alone. It was the ultimate master (or indeed mistress). Who needed anything else? Whilst that was probably true he recalled Obi-Wan's frustrated, hormonal reply, still wringing in his ears from the last time they had discussed the matter.

"That's why jedi frown all the time." He stated.

The more Qui-Gon thought about it, the more he wondered if the young man wasn't right. After all, why else did his friend Dex Berlingside smile so much? 

"A distracted mind is an unhealthy thing." He'd informed his padawan one day, affecting his sternest voice. "You have to focus on the moment, not fritter away your time dreaming about unattainable things."

"They're only unattainable if you don't know where to look." Obi-Wan replied.

Why had that answer worried Qui-Gon so much?

A year before, Obi-Wan had been a shy, serious, determined individual who couldn't look at the top of a female stocking without his face turning into a beacon of embarrassment. He was still serious, still determined but under no circumstances could the word shy be used in the same context as his name. Somewhere along the way Qui-Gon had forgotten exactly what it was like to be driven by X-chromosomes.

"Hormones are of the dark side of the force." He'd recently told Obi-Wan. "Hormones lead to trouble. Trouble leads suffering. Suffering leads to chemical suppression. Have you got that?"

"Yes master." Obi-Wan had sighed, and promptly went back to writing I LOVE SHERIA on the top of the flimsy he was supposed to be jotting notes down on for his history exam.

Qui-Gon snapped himself back to the present. He wasn't exactly focussed himself right now, amidst all the distraction of his padawan and his current paramour. 

"Obi-Wan? Can you please hurry up in there?" Qui-Gon repeated, knocking on the door again with his knuckles. "We have to meet Master Berlingside in fifteen minutes and I need to get in to the fresher."

He'd expected to be hailed with either a cheery "yes master, sorry master" or (depending on how his youthful hormones were behaving) a grudging, incomprehensible grunt which could just about mean anything - and probably did. Instead however, Qui-Gon was somewhat alarmed to be answered with a long and unhappy sounding groan.

"Urggggggnnnnn." The noise drifted under the door.

"Padawan?" Jinn frowned. "Are…are you okay?"

Silence.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon continued doggedly, listening to the series of sobs and squeals that permeated through the barrier that separated them both, "are you in some kind of pain? Shall I fetch you a healer?"

Silence.

"Padawan, I can't help you if you don't speak to me." Qui-Gon was beginning to get seriously worried. "Can you tell me what the matter is?" 

He thought about the fact that Obi-Wan had locked himself in the fresher of all places. "It wasn't those Tooni fowl legs in Takkini sauce we had last night, was it?"

Obi-Wan let out another groan.

"It's awful." He whimpered pitifully.

"Padawan, what is awful? The pain?" Now Qui-Gon was beginning to foresee another trip to the infirmary and swallowed back his own distress. Obi-Wan would require him to be calm. "I need you to unlock the door for me, can you do that? I can't help you out here."

"It's too horrendous…I can't face anyone ever again."

Qui-Gon sucked in a deep, steadying breath.

"Obi-Wan, listen to me!" Jinn demanded. "Open the door. Whatever is wrong I can help you if you just let me look at you."

"I can't." the moaned reply came back, echoing and distorted.

"Are you hurt?" Qui-Gon persisted.

"Y-yes, master." The padawan's voice sounded strangely small.

"Are you bleeding?"

"Yes, master. It's too ghastly for words!" Kenobi moaned in despair.

The master was beginning to get extremely concerned, imagining all sorts of horrific scenarios involving half-amputated limbs and large puddles of blood across the tiled floor. Whatever was wrong, Obi-Wan was scared stiff and that wasn't like him at all. He had to get in to help him!

"Obi-Wan, let me in!" Jinn thumped on the door.

"N-no, master!" Kenobi squawked back. "I can't! Please…"

"If you're injured I need to see, if it's as bad as you think it is. Now open the door!" his voice began to rise an octave or two in barely suppressed panic.

"I can't!"

Qui-Gon had by that stage reached the limit of his patience. If Obi-Wan were badly hurt he'd have to haul him out of there no matter what the situation. It wasn't something he liked to do especially but he couldn't help but feel that the means justified the ends on this occasion. 

Closing his eyes, Qui-Gon tried to sense with the force exactly where the locking mechanism was situated within the door, and slowly he latched onto the circuitry and reversed the power so that the catch would be released. The door swung open, leaving Qui-Gon temporarily blinded by the warm, yellow light that shot out of the room, followed shortly after by the sauna-like cloud of steam from the direction of the bath.

"Padawan!" Jinn rushed forward to where Obi-Wan was leaning over the basin, head in his hands. "Look at me. Whatever is the matter?"

Gradually, so laggardly that Qui-Gon wondered if there was something wrong with his padawan's neck, Obi-Wan dared to turn humiliated - and somewhat apologetic - blue eyes up at the tall master. What Qui-Gon saw temporarily stunned him into silence.

All over Obi-Wan's face were tiny strips of paper, stuck down by large traces of dark red blood.

"Obi-Wan…" Qui-Gon eventually managed to get out. "What HAVE you done to yourself?"

The miserable apprentice cast his eyes down at the rather savage razor clutched convulsively in his fingers by way of an answer, not daring to look his master in the face.

"I…I was trying to shave." He admitted bashfully. "As you can see, it didn't go quite as well as I had anticipated."

"Evidently." Qui-Gon felt his jaw dropping in surprise. "But Obi-Wan, you do not need to shave!"

"I thought that maybe it was about time that I started." He shrugged ineffectively. "You see, Jemmy said that Sheria likes men with beards so I wanted…"

Qui-Gon closed his eyes. Hormones again.

"I doubt very much that Sheria will want to look at you in that state." Jinn postulated, crossing his arms and trying not to laugh at the ridiculous appearance of his poor padawan. This was probably punishment enough for the boy, and would serve very well as his own lesson. "More to the point, I think Jemmiah might have been having a bit of a joke with you."

"Jemmy wouldn't do that." Obi-Wan said stoutly.

"Our opinions differ on that matter." Qui-Gon took the razor from the boy's hand and studied under the light. 

"Master, please might I be excused from training with Kryztan and Master Berlingside today?" Obi-Wan pleaded. "I don't really think that this is a particularly good image for me right now."

Qui-Gon glanced the boy up and down and found himself having to agree with him.

"Very well. I will see that you are excused practise." The master smiled at Obi-Wan amusedly. "You might be advised to tidy the fresher room up as soon as possible. Now that you've finished mutilating yourself in the name of vanity perhaps I can get in." Qui-Gon walked crisply past the young man, leaving Obi-Wan somewhat chagrined at the lack of sympathy he was getting. 

Dejectedly, Obi-Wan turned his back and clumped dispiritedly away towards the kitchen.

"Oh, and padawan?" Qui-Gon called from just inside the doorway. "Next time you try to shave, perhaps it would be better if you used an energy-celled device like the one I use," he held up the little machine for Obi-Wan to see, "rather than the barbarous item you seem to be using."

Obi-Wan gawked at the man. "Pardon, master?"

"I said, this is not a proper razor." Qui-Gon held the sharp little knife into the air. "It was one of those many silly presents that Master Berlingside and Master Windu like to give me from time to time. It's, er…not for use on the face." He nodded down at his lower torso.

"But Jemmy said that…" Obi-Wan's eyes bugged.

"Ah-ha." Qui-Gon shot Obi-Wan a told-you-so look.

Obi-Wan clenched his teeth together.

"I'll murder her."

Qui-Gon smiled and said nothing else. For a moment at least it might stop his padawan's thoughts from dwelling on the ubiquitous Sheria. Certainly, Sheria wouldn't spare the boy a second glance in his present condition.

No doubt that had been Jemmiah's reasoning, too…


	2. Beard 2: The Beard Strikes Back

TITLE: BEARD 

By Jemmiah

*N.B: If anyone wishes to read any of the other related and longer fics in the Jemmiah Chronicle series most of them are in the process of being archived on my sister's website. The link is included in my profile. There is also a yahoo group for the Chronicles should anyone wish to join. Thanks you :)

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Tired. He was tired; there was no two ways about it.

He'd fought fearsome creatures in the most inhospitable of environments. He'd battled people who were evil through and through, faced challenges of such magnitude that it would scare the living daylights out of an ordinary person and still come out of it - not always smiling and usually wrapped in some kind of bandaging - but this

This was different. This was just something on a completely different level.

His poor aching limbs were being sorely tested today. He'd always thought himself to be a fit young man, twenty one years of age and full of vigour (too much according to his master) but no amount of training could compensate for the pain and suffering his weary legs were enduring today. Marathon training sessions and hours of sabre practise couldn't prepare him for the awfulness of being dragged round the galaxy's largest department stores by two VERY determined females.

How did they manage it? What was it within the female brain that enabled them to go from store to store just LOOKING at things - not even buying! - for hour after draining hour? What unique ingredient did women possess in their genetic makeup that let them show stamina reserves in abundance that men could not even hope to measure up to? 

What was it about shoes that women found so fascinating???

These were questions that had been turning over and over in Obi-Wan's mind as he trudged along despondently after Jemmiah and Rela, the latter having insisted that it was about time her friend got out of the quarters she shared with Evla where she had been hiding herself away ever since news of her pregnancy had got out. Too frightened to go out and be stared at, too bored to stay in and lament her situation, Rela had known she would find it difficult to coax her away. It was only when she had strategically mentioned the word 'shopping' that the temptation to go had become far too much for the usually lively Corellian.

Evla, not enjoying the best of health, had insisted that she go out and have some fun. Qui-Gon had been horrified, imagining all sorts of scenariosover-tiring herself, getting drunk in cantinas, being hurt by clumsy shoppers barging each other in the search for the best items. In the end he had relented on one condition: Obi-Wan went with them both.

Jemmiah hadn't seemed too happy with that edict and Obi-Wan was even less happy about it. The padawan knew that he should make the most of the fact Qui-Gon was actually speaking to him now without treating him to his legendary repertoire of glares and disapproving looks but somewhere at the back of his mind Obi-Wan got the idea that his master was actually using this as a punishment more than ensuring that Jemmiah came to no harm. Anyway, as if he would be of any use once Jemmy and Rela got an idea in their heads

He'd tried for Jemmy's sake at first to look interested. He'd spent most of his time wondering how she would look in the various short dresses on display before remembering her present condition and that in eight months or so down the line she wouldn't be able to see her feet. Some of the baby stuff that Rela had dragged Jemmy excitedly round (Jemmiah looking far from thrilled) had been quite sweet, he supposed. But then Rela and Jemmy seemed to have gone on a quest to find the most impractical pair of shoes on the planet and his heart had sunk deeper into his already blistered and bruised feet.

Eventually, he decided to assert some kind of authority over Jemmiah by playing his "Qui-Gon told me to look after you" trump card, which inevitably failed to work. Spotting a pair of highly unstable looking shoes that Obi-Wan felt sure would need a ladder to get into them Jemmiah continued onwards regardless of how he felt, ignoring his not very subtle attempts to get her to slow down or call it a day. He shuffled his feet dispiritedly against the carpet and stared heavenward but all to no avail.

It was as if he were being deliberately shunned for some reason

"You look tired." He suggested kindly, taking her arm. "Perhaps you should rest, or maybe go back home. I can call an air cab"

"Thanks Ben." Jemmy grinned without looking directly at his face. "But I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Obi-Wan frowned, trying to use the force to see if she was lying at all. "Because I don't want you overdoing things."

"That's kind of you but really I am okay." Jemmy examined the shoes and held one of them out to Rela. "What do you think, Rel? Too big?"

"Too pricey!" Rela made a disparaging little noise at the back of her throat as she examined the tag. "Put them back without looking at it. Don't want you getting any nasty shocks!"

Jemmy sighed but did as she was told and Obi-Wan began to feel hopeful that this was the beginning of the end of the shopping trip from hell.

"Hey, that pair looks okay!" Rela pointed to a pair of shoes half way across the store that Obi-Wan knew fine well they couldn't possibly see properly without superhuman vision. Or maybe it was that inbuilt female shoe-thing again.

"No." Obi-Wan tightened his grasp on Jemmy. "I told you, you're tiring yourself out. I won't stand for it."

"Ben!" Jemmy huffed at him.

"Qui-Gon told me to look after you and that is what I intend to do." Obi-Wan scolded her as gently as he could. "Now, you look like you could do with a rest. How about we find a café somewhere and I buy you a drink?"

"In other words he's hungry and thirsty and his feet hurt!" Rela laughed at the annoyed face he turned on her, a face that was currently sporting a rather unattractive four-day beard. 

"I'm just concerned for Jemmy, that's all." Obi-Wan felt his ire raise slightly at Rela's assumption he was more concerned about the state of his feeteven if it was true. 

"Ben, I could go round for hours yet!" Jemmy smiled, still not looking directly at him. 

"I don't want you in the infirmary in need of therapy!" he shot back, aware that people were beginning to stare at him.

"This IS therapy." Jemmy replied politely. "Retail therapy. My fave kindinfact the only kind that works for a girl. That and chocolate."

"Yup, the old chocolate is a fave with me as well." Agreed Rela. "C'mon, let's go to the next floor!"

"What's on the next floor?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice laden with dread.

Rela and Jemmiah looked at each other gleefully.

"More shoes!" they said in unison.

*************

As they had headed up to the next floor Obi-Wan stepped up his campaign to get the girls to see things his way. He'd tried appealing to their better nature but had soon discovered that when it came to shopping they didn't have one. Now he'd have to resort to that old favorite: emotional blackmail.

"Jemmy, I want you to stop all this running about!" Obi-Wan warned her, his voice dropping to a growl to emphasize how he felt on the matter.

"I'm in a lift, Ben. How am I running about?" Jemmiah asked him over her shoulder.

When Rela tittered slightly Obi-Wan gritted his teeth and carried on.

"Look, that's my child you're carrying in there." He muttered in her ear. 

"So?"

"Don't I get a say in the way you should be looking after yourselves? You have a responsibility"

"Ordinarily Ben, yes. But possession is nine tenths of the law on Corellia and as I am the one who is doing the incubation bit and not you I would tactfully ask you to not try and tell me what is good for myself or the baby."

"Jemmy"

"I'm teaching it a lesson, Ben. If it's a girl I'm going to make sure it's a shopaholic." Jemmy again avoided his face and this time Obi-Wan demanded to know what was going on. It was almost as if she didn't want him anywhere near him! Something was wrong and he was going to find out what right away. Then maybe they could get away home at long last

"Right, that's it." Obi-Wan folded his arms and ignored the stares from the other shoppers in the packed turbo lift. "Tell me what it is that's got you two so anxious not to be near me."

"Dunno what you mean." Rela shrugged, looking at the floor. He could see by the look on her face that this was not true in the least.

"You and Jemmy have dragged me all over the city, mostly to look at shoes. You know I hate shoes! It's like you're doing it on purpose in the hope that I will go and leave you! I want to know!"

"Ben, really. It's nothing" Jemmy began to chuckle with laughter.

"I don't believe you." Kenobi's eyes narrowed.

"Noreally." Rela covered her face with her hands.

The blue-green eyes flared a dangerously darker shade altogether. It was so frustrating! He knew he didn't own Jemmiah and what was more he didn't want to, but to see her carrying on like this as if there was nothing different, as if their situation hadn't been altered made Obi-Wan feel somewhat helpless. And then there was Rela, whom Jemmy always turned to in times of need. Why did she never turn to him? And above all else, why did it make him feel so jealous?

"Okay, you're right. At least up to a point." Jemmiah conceded, wondering how Obi-Wan was going to like her answer. "Pleasetry not to get too offended, hmmm?"

That didn't sound too good, Obi-Wan thought grimly to himself. It was obviously something that she and Rela had both discussed at some stage if appearances were anything to go by. The way they had looked at him all during the day, little smirks and hesitant snickers when they thought his back was turned or he was too far behind them to seewhat had they been discussing? If it was anything like the things that female flimsy mags suggested they talked about he wasn't sure he wanted to know. 

"It's" Jemmy swallowed, her eyes skimming just past his shoulder.

"What?"

"Its' the beard." Her mouth wavered up and down as if fighting the urge to howl with laughter and Obi-Wan could see the effort that both she and Rela were making not to do so by forcing the corners of their mouths down.

"My beard?" Obi-Wan wondered if he had heard properly. "My beard? What is wrong with it?"

"Obi, it's hideous!" Rela suddenly found the courage to speak out loud what had been bothering them for so long. "It looks like you've been hit smack in the face by a prickly mammal who you've hit whilst flying a speeder bike at tremendous speed!"

"I think it suits me!" Obi-Wan felt his chest puff up as he defended himself.

"Yeah, if you're into the speeder-kill look." Agreed Jemmiah. "It's all growing unevenly. It's not tidy like Qui-Gee's beard. It's like sleeping with a straw birdscare!"

Obi-Wan's mouth dropped right open in protest at the ghastly opinion on his new look. He'd toyed with the idea of growing a beard - or attempting it - for a few months now but Jemmy's pregnancy had somehow speeded things along. He was going to be a father. He supposed he at least ought to look like someone who was old enough to be one. Qui-Gon's beard had always seemed to be an effortless creation with the minimal of upkeep and fuss. Why wasn't his the same? All he had got was an itchy face covered with patchy, course, ginger stubble

Even so, the words were hurtful.

"I'm sure given a little time" he began.

"Ben, it's awful. Time is not going to cure that. A razor will cure it." Jemmy pleaded with him.

"It's smart!" Obi-Wan growled.

"It's awful! Not unless you want to look like a hobo." countered Rela. "Sorry for being so blunt, but it is."

She turned to the other people in the lift who had been listening.

"Don't you think it's awful?" she asked them, sporting a grin the size of a Hutt on a sponsored eat.

Sadly, and much to Obi-Wan's dismay, they had all agreed with Rela. Now more than ever Obi-Wan wished he was back at the temple. He desperately wanted to find a mirror to see if he was quite as unattractive they all seemed to think. At least he knew now why Jemmiah had been acting so funny around him of late.

But what was he going to do about it?

************

His feet had finally given way and Obi-Wan begged the two girls to let him wait for them outside the last store in the plaza which Jemmiah, finally taking pity on him, had promised him faithfully would be the last of the day. The promise was enough to see him over to a bench in the square not far from a statue of a Corellian water nymph holding a rather wicked looking trident. There was something about the statue that Obi-Wan liked, possibly the expression. Somehow it always reminded him of Jemmiah. Perhaps it was the look in the eyes, the naughty gleam noticeable even in the marble.

Obi-Wan scratched thoughtfully at his beard. Now he wasn't sure if he liked it either. Casting his mind back he was fairly certain that Qui-Gon was avoiding making eye contact with him too. If his own master was avoiding him then that did not bode well for his beard. Still, he couldn't just go home and shave it right offthat would be admitting defeat. Rela and Jemmy would crow about it for months to come, possibly even years. No, he'd have to wait a day or so and make it look like he hadn't bowed to popular opinion.

Perhaps he should sleep on it?

It was obviously not attractive to Jemmy. That much was obvious from her behavior to him. No wonder she hadn't wanted to get close to him this past week! He'd thought that it must be something to do with the pregnancy but now he wasn't so sure

Okay. If three more people said they didn't like the beard he would shave it right off, no questions asked. No regrets.

Rubbing at his aching feet Obi-Wan leaned heavily against the arm of the bench, staring up at the statue and watching the spray dance in the air. He always found this spot so relaxing. It was the perfect place to rest and relax as he waited for the two troublemakers to finish their retail therapy.

Yawning, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and listened to the fountain as it lulled him to sleep.

***********

The next thing he was aware of was a rather abrupt prodding and pushing on his arm, and then as he opened his eyes two faces began to home into focus. The first was Rela, that smile back on her face again. The one that told him she had found something about him to laugh at but was enjoying his suffering too much to tell him what it was. Jemmiah stood beside her, that wild and gleaming look in her eyes just like the mischievous stare of the imperious mermaid towering above him, trident aloft.

"Wha-what?" Obi-Wan blinked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

"Poor Ben." Jemmy cooed and seated herself beside him. "You look rather exhausted!"

Confused, it took Obi-Wan just a few seconds to work out what they were saying. Ah, yes. The shoes. The shopping. The endless boredomit had all come flooding back to him now. That and the beard debate.

"We've changed our mind." Rela sat on the other side of him, so small that she hardly needed him to budge along on the bench to make room for her. "We want the beard to stay."

"You do?" Obi-Wan's brow furrowed ever so slightly.

"Yeah," Jemmiah grinned at him, "we think you are a potential money spinner for us, Ben Kenobi!"

Either his brain was too fogged or he didn't understand what she was driving at. How could someone who was so violently opposed to something a mere hour ago now do a total backtrack? And what did she mean by money-spinner?

"I don't know what you mean." He replied tersely. "Can we go home now? Have you enough shopping?" he asked her, looking at the three bulging bags by her feet. 

"I think we can go." Rela's face lit up as if at some private joke. "We've even got our money for the air taxi thanks to you!"

"To me?" Obi-Wan yawned widely.

"Yeah," Jemmy put her arm around his shoulder. "Look down at your lap."

Obi-Wan gazed down. There collecting in the fabric of his tunic was a large collection of assorted credit pieces. At first he thought he was dreaming them, but then his fingers made contact with the metal and he held up a coin of a lowly denomination and examined it carefully. It was real enough, he thought carefully, but why? How?

"It would appear that you fell asleep on the bench." Jemmy choked, again turning her head away from him and not looking Obi-Wan in the eyes. "Passers by saw you stretched out like that in your long robe and thathedge beard of yours. I guess they must have thought you were some kind of vagrant! They've been throwing coins at you for the best part of an hour!"

Jemmiah could tell by the shock on Obi-Wan's face that she had won the battle of the beard for the time being. The second they got home to the temple the dreaded object would be shorn away as if it had never been. All she had to do now was dispose of the sign she and Rela had drawn up and placed on Obi-Wan's lap

Walking back towards the air taxi pickup zone, Jemmy dropped the flimsy into a trash receptacle. Now Obi-Wan would never know the truth.

Or ask for any spare change ever again.


	3. Beard 3: Return of the Beard

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BEARD: Part three

By Jemmiah

*******

Why?

Why was he so nervous? 

After all this time and all the years he had known her, all the things they had experienced and shared…he felt as if he were a giddy young man again on his first date! It made no sense to him at all. The force was of little help to him in clearing his mind or focusing his thoughts on the task ahead, all Obi-Wan could think of as he stood there brandishing a rather sorry looking bunch of flowers he'd stolen from an outdoor café was the rather obvious hammering of his heart. It no longer seemed to exist inside his chest cavity where it usually dwelt but instead seemed to leap precariously in his throat.

//Idiot, to get so worked up like this.// Obi-Wan chided himself as he stood on the other side of the door, waiting to depress the chime. //Pull yourself together man! What will she think of you?//

He needed to get away from the temple for a bit, it was that simple. There was a certain amount of guilt for arranging Anakin to spend the night with Master Sidatu and Toms Yarrel, but Anakin at least genuinely liked Toms and had all but leapt at the chance to escape from his master's strict supervision. He hoped the boy wouldn't cause any trouble because Toms was every bit as capable of causing mayhem and mischief, infact more so. He was after all a Corellian…

Toms was not the Corellian that was occupying his thoughts, however. The individual he was seeking was someone of a far more attractive and feminine persuasion. He just hoped that she would feel comfortable with him in the same room again - the shock of seeing him after all that time when he had visited Rela and Simeon's place had almost proven to be too much for her. He'd thought that odd because before that, a year or so ago, they had parted on quite reasonable terms, even if the circumstances had not been pleasant.

Jonas was gone now. Who did she have left to rely on but her friends?

//Press the door chime, Obi-Wan. It's only a door. It won't bite you!//

His shock of course had been no less than hers, seeing her standing there…

//Kenobi, you are more nervous than Anakin trying to dodge a punishment!// he let his finger hover around the chime momentarily before stabbing at it, wincing as he staved his finger. 

Surely she would want to see him again? As a friend? How could she not want to see him? And if he believed that so much, why was he so scared?

The com crackled into life and Obi-Wan stared up at the security monitor.

"Who is it?" the familiar voice asked, trailing off as the picture revealed the identity of the visitor before the words were barely out of her mouth.

"It's Obi-Wan." The somewhat nervous voice replied. "May I come in?"

There was a frighteningly long pause and Obi-Wan wondered if she had simply switched off and walked away, leaving him outside on the landing. Just as he was about to start to speak again the door opened a crack, finally sliding right back, allowing him to walk right in. For a moment he stood there, looking back at the face that he had once sworn to love over all others - and ultimately rejected because Anakin's training had demanded it. It had been so tempting to blame Qui-Gon for making him promise to train the boy, or the Sith for cutting his master down, or Anakin himself for being the burden he had initially viewed him to be…

He'd made the choice. He'd regretted it every day since. But the force had demanded it, so it had seemed. Now he wasn't as sure as he had been.

"The landing is very pretty," Jemmiah looked past him towards the turbo lift, "but I think you'll find the living area a more suitable place to talk. Come on in."

She stepped aside to let Obi-Wan through, the young knight walking into the hall and casting a quick glance around him. It hadn't changed much: it was still bright and cheerful - cozy was perhaps the best word to describe it. The warm rugs lay stretched invitingly out on the floor infront of the artificial hearth, the scent of what smelled very much hot chocolate with marshmallows hanging in the air, making Obi-Wan feel rather hungry. Jemmiah caught the look and a faint smile formed on her lips.

"Just made some." She replied. "I felt I could do with a treat. I've been keeping kind of weird hours of late. Snatching sleep when I can get it."

"I can imagine." Obi-Wan looked over in the direction of the cot, to where the squirming infant seemed to study his own fingers with a fanatical interest. "Has he been keeping you awake?"

"He's not too bad." Jemmy remarked in a cautious voice, not feeling entirely comfortable with discussing her son with anyone. "He sleeps quite well, I think. But he's a lot of work. Probably more than he's worth."

"I'm sure that's not true." Obi-Wan smiled at her, holding the flowers behind his back.

"You try having one of your own and see how you feel…" she stopped herself not quite in time. Obi-Wan looked at his feet, wondering if the visit had been such a good idea. Jemmiah was obviously not happy with him being too near, probably wondering how he would feel about the child that had now taken first place in her life. If only he could get her to see that he didn't mind at all…

"Sorry." Jemmy moved brusquely away, fabric of her dressing gown catching on the arm of the chair, revealing a pair of shapely legs that Obi-Wan had good cause to remember with considerable fondness. "Want some cocoa?"

"Yes, thanks." He grunted in agreement, wondering when he should give her his flowers.

"You sure?" Jemmiah asked him slyly, the faintest suspicion of rebuke in her voice. "You're eating again, are you? Not still trying to live on a diet of water and the force?"

Obi-Wan turned his eyes to the ceiling this time. He should have known…

"And it should be me asking you if you're getting any sleep. Or are you still meditating yourself into a coma?"

"Jemmiah, I don't think that…" Obi-Wan lowered his voice.

"I wasn't criticizing." Jemmiah turned to look at him. "After all, every cripple has his own way of walking. Rela was worried about you. She used to tell me about how you were. I was worried to hear it too. It didn't sound like the Ben that I knew."

"We've all changed." Obi-Wan replied, relaxing now he knew there was no real reprimand intended, only good-natured concern. "And yes, I am eating and taking normal sleep."

"Glad to hear it." Jemmiah muttered, returning with a mug full of chocolate and placing it carefully in Obi-Wan's hands.

"Thanks." Mumbled the knight.

"For the cocoa or the concern?"

"Both." He admitted. "If you were worried about me I was also worried about you…and how you were doing since Jonas died. You sent two messages, that was all. I was really frightened for you."

"As you can see, I have had other things to occupy me." Jemmy pointed at the cot.

Obi-Wan's face cracked into an amused grin.

"Yes. Rela was very reluctant to say anything about that after I questioned her." He cocked his head on one side and looked into the crib. "What was his name…Han, wasn't it?"

"Yeah." Jemmy's face took on the initial distrusting look it had when she'd first opened the door to him. "That's right. I don't like him much. I think he's horrible." She declared with a toss of her head, long hair cascading down her back.

"Liar." Obi-Wan smiled, shaking his head. "Can I see him again?"

She stiffened visibly as if he'd stunned her with a Nerf prod.

"Why?" her eyes narrowed.

"Well, because I only saw him briefly before and I thought it might be nice to get better acquainted now." He frowned at her, wondering what was so wrong. "Is that not okay with you?"

"S'pose so." Jemmy's voice was guarded. "Just don't breathe on him."

"I'll try not." His voice was dry, but condescending at least. Obi-Wan walked over to the crib and knelt down, an even sillier smile on his face then before, Jemmiah noted. What was the fascination for babies? She could never understand it! Okay, Han wasn't as bad as she'd thought but still…

The goofy smile was just unbearably sickening.

"He's a lovely young fellow, aren't you?" he cooed at the baby, who looked up at him with dark blue eyes clearly destined to turn brown, the same skeptical expression on his face as his mother. "You are, hmm?"

"Don't prod him!" Jemmy scolded. "You might wake him up!"

"He's already awake." Obi-Wan said through his game show host smile, still content on speaking to the baby. "He's a clever fellow, isn't he?"

"Takes after his mother." She said flatly. 

Her eyes went to the collection of headless and wilting flowers clasped behind his back with a single hand.

"Ben?"

"What?"

"Why are you holding a bunch of weeds behind you?" she asked him scathingly.

"Huh…" he stammered hurriedly, feeling flustered like he used to when Qui-Gon caught him doing something he shouldn't have. "Er…they're for the baby."

"The baby?" Jemmy queried. "I'll just stick them in his bottle, shall I?"

"Yeah, you do that." Obi-Wan grinned at the child, not paying the slightest bit of attention. Jemmy sighed and snatched the poor collection of broken flowers away from his grasp, examining them mournfully.

"I used to be worth a dozen white orchids and now it has come to this." She replied woefully. "A mangy lily, a slug eaten rose and five passion flowers with their heads missing."

"Hmmm." Obi-Wan answered distractedly.

He offered the baby his finger, which the child clasped with his own tiny hands, the toothless smile forming in return.

"See! He took my finger!" Obi-Wan radiated pride and happiness, leaning closer to the cot. "He likes me!"

It was the kiss of death, saying something like that and Jemmy knew it. As soon as the words were out his mouth the baby started to scream, getting more and more worked up as Obi-Wan tried to shush it with a nervous look over his shoulder in Jemmiah's direction.

"He must be hungry." He laughed hesitantly.

"He's just been fed. I'd put him down for the evening." Jemmy folded her arms. "Look what you've done!"

"I don't know what set him off." Obi-Wan ran his hand over his beard, trying to wrack his brains for some clue.

She snorted in annoyance, picked up an object from the table by the light fitting and marched over to her wailing son.

"Here Han. Never mind the big, ugly jedi. He's enough to give anyone nightmares." She glared at Obi-Wan, whose mouth had fallen open in hurt aggrievance. "Look! Who's this? It's Snordle!" She placed the duck in the cot with the baby and listened as Han's crying eventually began to die away into tiny little moans and whimpers. 

She sat up; watching her son staring mesmerized at the garish yellow object.

"He likes Snordle." She explained to Obi-Wan archly. "I found that out when I was giving him a bath. I kind of keep him nearby incase of emergency. It usually works." Jemmiah stared him up and down, a lopsided grimace on her face. "If you want to make yourself useful you can play with the duck."

"Do I have to?" he asked, pleading in such comical fashion with his eyes that she almost burst out laughing.

"I don't know what you have against my duck."

"He's evil." Obi-Wan remarked caustically. "I'd hoped you'd given him to the dog to eat."

"He's over at the temple right now." Jemmiah replied tying her hair back, noticing the way Obi-Wan was admiring her neck. "Making An-Paj's life a misery, no doubt."

"Dogs and infirmaries are not really a natural combination." Admitted the knight, turning back to the baby in the crib.

He picked up Snordle and began to make silly little quacking noises with him, bobbing the duck up and down as if he was on a rather violent wave. 

Sure enough, just as Jemmiah went to pick up her own mug of cocoa the baby started to cry. She slapped her hands by her side and spun around, eyes promising death.

"It wasn't me!" Obi-Wan swore with his hand raised.

"What, so it was the duck?" snapped Jemmiah. "What did you do? He's NEVER like this!"

"All I did was play with the duck - AS INSTRUCTED." He emphasized the words. "I leaned into the cot and then he started to scream…"

Jemmy pondered the problem for a moment, wondering what it was about Obi-Wan that Han didn't like. 

Then she hit on the answer.

"Lean over him again." She commanded, Obi-Wan blankly doing as she said and recoiling instantly when his ear drums nearly shattered as a result of the boy's screaming. 

"It's that." Jemmy stabbed a finger at his face.

"What?"

"The beard." She remarked caustically. "It's going to have to come off."

"It took me a long time to get my beard like this!" Obi-Wan complained. "Why should I?"

"Because my son doesn't like it." Jemmiah refused to listen to his complaints. "I don't care for it either."

"You've never liked beards." Obi-Wan huffed at her. "You're just being irrationally beardist!"

"Ben…" she knelt down by the crib, trying to quiet her screaming child. "You don't need to hide behind that…thing. You've no need to hide at all! To hell with what other people think. You're not Qui-Gon and you won't ever be him, no matter how much you want to be."

She caught sight of the pain in his blue eyes, knowing her words had struck home as she had intended them to. How could she put this so that he would understand?

"Obi-Wan. You grew that beard because you wanted to feel like you were more mature than you were, didn't you? You wanted to look the part…not like some poor ex-padawan with a kid who'd been placed in your care. I'm telling you that you don't need a beard to have authority. Anakin," she said the name with a touch of bitterness, he noticed, "will follow you because he wants to, not because he has someone who looks like they're old enough to know what they are doing."

"You could always read me, couldn't you?" he smiled in melancholy fashion. "You and Qui-Gon, both."

"You're not ready for that beard, Mr. Kenobi." Jemmiah poked him in the side with her finger. "It hides your face. Do you really want that?"

"Maybe." He replied softly.

"Garbage." She answered succinctly. "And my son is never wrong. The beard comes off…" she eyed him levelly. "…if you want to come back and see us at all."

Obi-Wan's smile this time wasn't at all silly, but genuinely warm. He reached over and took her hand in his own.

"In that case, dear friend," he replied in his lightly accented voice, "you'd better lend me a razor."


End file.
